[Aideen, daughter of Angus of Ben-Edar (now the Hill of Howth), died of grief for the loss of her husband, Oscar, son of Ossian, who was slain at the battle of Gavra (Gowra, near Tara in Meath), A.D. 284. Oscar was entombed in the rath or earthen fortress that occupied part of the field of battle, the rest of the slain being cast in a pit outside. Aideen is said to have buried on Howth, near the mansion of her father, and poetical tradition represents the Fenian heroes as present at her obsequies. The Cromlech in Howth Park has been supposed to be her sepulchre. It stands under the summits from which the poet Atharne is said to have launched his invectives against the people of Leinster, until, by the blighting effect of his satires, they were compelled to make him atonement for the death of his son.]

Aideen's Grave
They heaved the stone; they heap'd the cairn:Said Ossian "In a queenly graveWe leave her, 'mong her fields of fernBetween the cliff and wave."The cliff behind stands clear and bare,And bare, above, the heathery steepScales the clear heaven's expanse, to whereThe Danaan Druids sleep."And all the sands that, left and right,The grassy isthmus-ridge confine,in yellow bars le bared and brightAmong the sparkling brine."A clear pure air pervades the scene,In loneliness and awe secure;Meet spot to sepulchre a QueenWho in her life was pure."Here, far from camp and chase removed,Apart in Nature's quiet room,The music that alive she lovedShall cheer her in the tomb."The humming of the noontide bees,The lark's loud carol all day long,And, borne on evening's salted breeze,The clanking sea bird's song"Shall round her airy chamber float,And with the whispering winds and steamsAttune to Nature's tenderest noteThe tenor of her dreams."And oft, at tranquil eve's declineWhen full tides lip the Old Green Plain,The lowing of Moynalty's kineShall round her breathe again,"In sweet remembrance of the daysWhen, duteous, in the lowly valeUnconscious of my Oscar's gale,She fill'd the fragrant pail,"And, duteous, from the running brookDrew water for the bath; nor deem'dA king did on her labour look,And she a fairy seem'd."But when the wintry frosts begin,And in their long-drawn, lofty flight,The wild geese with their airy dinDistend the ear of night,"And whne the fierce De Danaan ghostsAt midnight from their peak come down,When all around the enchanted coastsDespairing strangers drown;"When, mingling with the wreckful wail,From low Clontarf's wave-trampled floorComes booming up the burthen'd galeThe angry Sand-Bull's roar;"Or, angrier than the sea, the shoutOf Erin's hosts in wrath combined,When Terror heads Oppression's rout,And Freedom cheers behind: —"Then o'er our lady's placid dream,Where safe from storms she sleeps, may stealSuch jo as will not misbeseemA Queen of men to feel:"Such thrill of free, defiant pride,As rapt her in her battle carAt Gavra, when by Oscar's sideShe rode the ridge of war,"Exulting, down the shouting troops,And through the thick confronting kings,With hands on all their javelin loopsAnd shafts on all their strings;"E'er closed the inseparable crowds,No more to part for me, and show,As bursts the sun through scattering clouds,My Oscar issuing so."No more, dispelling battle's gloomShall son for me from fight return;The great green rath's ten-acred tombLies heavy on his urn."A cup of bodkin-pencill'd clayHolds Oscar; mighty heart and limbOne handful now of ashes grey:And she has died for him."And here, hard by her natal bowerOn lone Ben Edar's side, we striveWith lifted rock and sign of powerTo keep her name alive."That while, from circling year to year,Her Ogham-letter'd stone is seen,The Gael shall say, 'Our Fenians hereEntomb's their loved Aideen.'"The Ogham from her pillar stoneIn tract of time will wear away;Her name at last be only knowIn Ossian's echo'd lay."The long forgotten lay I singMay only ages hence revive,(As eagle with a wounded wingTo soar again might strive,)"Imperfect, in an alien speech,When, wandering here, some child of chanceThrough pangs of keen delight shall reachThe gift of utterance, —"To speak the air, the sky to speak,The freshness of the hill to tell,Who, roaming bare Ben Edar's peakAnd Aideen's briary dell,"And gazing on the Cromlech vast,And on the mountain and the sea,Shall catch communion with the pastAnd mix himself with me."Child of the Future's doubtful night,Wate'er your speech, whoe'r your sires,Sing while you may with frank delightThe song your house inspires."Sing while you may, nor grieve to knowThe song you sing shall also die;Atharna's lay has perish'd so,Though once it thrill'd this sky."Above us, from his rocky chair,There, where Ben Edar's landward crestO'er eastern Bregia bends, to whereDun Almon crowns the west:"And all that felt the fretted airThroughout the song-distemper'd clime,Did droop, till suppliant Leinster's prayerAppeased the vengeful rhyme."Ah me, or e'er the hour arriveShall bid my long-forgotten tones,Unknown One, on your lips revive,Here, by these moss-grown stones,"What change shall o'er the scene have cross'd;What conquering lords anew have come;What lore-arm'd, mightier Druid hostFrom Gaul or distant Rome!"What arts of death, what ways of life,What creeds unknown to bard or seer,Shall round your careless steps be rife,Who pause and ponder here;"And, haply, where yon curlew callsAthwart the marsh, 'mid groves and bowersSee rise some mighty chieftain's hallsWith unimagined towers:"And baying hounds, and coursers bright,And burnish'd cars of dazzling sheen,With courtly train of dame and knight,Where now the fern is green."Or, by yon prostrate altar-stoneMay kneel, perchance, and, free from blame,Hear holy men with rites unknownNew names of God proclaim."Let change as may the Name of Awe,Let rite surcease and altar fall,The same One God remains, a lawFor ever and for all."Let change as may the face of earth,Let alter all the social frame,For mortal men the ways of birthAnd death are still the same."And still, as life and time wear on,The children of the waning days,(Though strength be from their shoulders goneTo lift the loads we raise,)"Shall weep to do the burial ritesOf lost ones loved; and fondly found,In shadow of the gathering nights,The monumental mound."Farewell! The strength of men is worn;The night approaches dark and chill:Sleep, till perchance an endless mornDescend the glittering hill."Of Oscar and Aideen bereft,So Ossian sang. The Fenians spedThree mighty shouts to heaven; and leftBen Edar to the dead.